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2nd COPY, 
1898. 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
"PS/c^pr 

diap - Copyright No 



-L&11 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




MADONNA AND CHILD 

FROM THE PAINTING BY BODENHAUSEN 



THE CHRIST 

A Poetical Study of His Life from 
Advent to Ascension 



BY 



O. C. AURINGER 



J. OLIVER SMITH 
\ 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
NEW YORK AND LONDON 
Gbe •Knickerbocker ipress 

1899 

I.. 






' 



Copyright, 1898 

BY 

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

COPIES 




Ube TRnfcfterbocfcer press, mew Korft 






"A 

i 



DEDICATED 

TO 

ALL WHO LOVE HIS NAME 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Prologue of the Prophets i 

The Annunciation 5 

The Journey of Mary to the Hill Country . . 10 

Elisabeth's Welcome 13 

Anticipation 14 

Shepherd Voices 17 

Angel Choristers 21 

The Manger 22 

Motherhood 25 

With the Doctors 26 

how is it that ye sought me ? . . . .29 

The Descent of the Dove 32 

The Temptation . . . • . . . .35 

Follow me 43 

Mountain Heights 44 

Lily of the Valley 45 

Lesson of the Sparrow 46 

The First Miracle 47 

The Lepers 49 

He Wrote upon the Ground 53 

The Alabaster Box 56 

Bethany 58 

v 



vi Contents* 

PAGE 

Mount Tabor 62 

Gethsemane 65 

The Betrayal 67 

Before Pilate 74 

Pilate and Herod Became Friends .... 84 

"Inasmuch" 88 

" Behold thy Son ! " 89 

Eloi, Eloi, Lama Sabachthani ? 90 

The Crucified 92 

The Weeping Willow of Gethsemane ... 94 

" Christ is Risen ! " 97 

The Journey to Emmaus 100 

The Ascension 104 



THE CHRIST 



THE CHRIST. 



PROLOGUE OF THE PROPHETS. 

T HEARD as if in sleep, 

From out the severed gulfs of age and clime, 
Borne through the solitudes of space sublime, 

These prophet voices sweep. 

With slow uncertain sounds, 

Far sundered and dim issuing they began ; 

Till, gathering power and pace, they rose and ran 
And filled that world's wide bounds ; 

As when from tow'r to tow'r 

The fiery heralds speak throughout a land 
The joyful tidings of the oppressor's hand 

Relaxed, and sunk his power. 



Until Shiloh come, and unto him shall the gather- 
ing of the people be." 

And the Lord shall suddenly come to his temple. 
Behold he shall come, saith the Lord of hosts." 



2 Zbc Gbrist 

" And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and 
all flesh shall see it together." 

" And this is the name whereby he shall be called, 
The Lord Our Righteousness.'* 

" The Lord thy God shall raise up unto thee a 
Prophet from the midst of thee." 

" And the Spirit of the Lord shall be upon him." 

" Thou art a priest for ever after the order of Mel- 
chizedek." 

" Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our 
sorrows." 

" Yet have I set my king upon my holy hill of 
Zion." 

" For unto us a child is born, and his name shall be 
called Wonderful, Counsellor, The Mighty 
God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of 
Peace." 

" The eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the 
ears of the deaf unstopped. Then shall the 
lame leap as an hart, and the tongue of the 
dumb sing." 

11 In that day shall be a fountain opened to the 
house of David for sin and for uncleanness." 



prologue ot tbe propbets. 3 

" And the Gentiles shall come to thy light and 
kings to the brightness of thy rising." 

" The kings of the earth set themselves, and the 
rulers take counsel together, against the Lord 
and against his anointed." 

" He is despised and rejected of men, a man of 
sorrows and acquainted with grief." 

" Dogs have compassed me. The assembly of the 
wicked have enclosed me. They pierced my 
hands and my feet." 

" And they shall look upon me whom they have 
pierced." 

" He was wounded for our transgressions, bruised 
for our iniquities, the chastisement of our 
peace was upon him, and with his stripes we 
are healed." 

" After two days he will revive us and in the third 
day he will raise us up." 

" For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell, neither 
wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corrup- 
tion." 

" Of the increase of his government there shall be 
no end." 



4 Ube Cbrist* 

" He shall have dominion also from sea to sea, and 
from the river unto the ends of the earth. 
His name shall endure for ever. All nations 
shall call him blessed. Blessed be the Lord 
God, the God of Israel. And blessed be his 
glorious name for ever, and let the whole earth 
be filled with his glory. Amen and Amen." 

O. C. A. 



THE ANNUNCIATION. 

Alone, 
And yet not lonely, for the soul that holds 
Close converse with the forms invisible, 
And dwells in sweet communion with the skies, 
Can never be without companionship. 

Not lonely, for in every virgin heart 
The guest of Love claims undivided care, 
And barred is every gate but solitude. 

For second only to the word of love 
Is memory of that word, and solitude 
Is but the portal to a fair new world 
Where Fancy holds a tryst with Memory, 
Both crowned with the aureola of Hope. 

But lo, what meaneth this ! the air is stirred 

As by some nameless presence. Can it be 

Angelic beings seek the earth once more 

As in the ages past ? Then angels came 

And walked with men, — came not with sound of 

wings 
But seeming substance that no shadow cast, 
Unknown, unheralded, a presence felt 
Long ere denned, not floating into sight 
5 



6 Zbc Cbrist. 

From distant clime, but " born where they ap- 
peared," 
As rays are flung upon the morning cloud. 

How reverent now, 
In speech and bearing, mighty Gabriel ! 
Six moons before, thou cam'st as evening fell, 
To one who in the temple of the Lord 
Was wont to minister in holy rites, 
And placed the crown of Promise on his brow. 

But thou, in might of vested Godlike power, 
Bade silence fall upon the doubter's tongue, 
These thy portentous words : " I, Gabriel, 
That stand in presence of the living God, 
Am sent to thee. Behold, thou shalt be dumb 
Until the day these things shall be performed, 
Because my message thou believest not." 

But reverently is passed 
The threshold of this Galilean home, 
While footstep only heard in courts of heaven 
Pauses before this wondering Jewish maid, 
And lips that utter thrilling prophecies 
Are with Divine Compassion strangely stirred, 
And tremulous with human sympathy. 

" Hail, thou most highly favored ! " Wondrous 

words, 
" Blessed art thou 'mong women, for the Lord 
Is with thee, thou hast favor found with Him." 



Ube Bnnunciation. 7 

Trembling the maiden stood, 
And wondered what this salutation meant. 
How often she had knelt before the Lord, 
And felt the wondrous Presence near, so near 
That if the veil of sense had passed away 
And left her with Jehovah face to face, 
Scarce had it seemed exceeding of belief. 

But here a form in earth's habiliments, 

Yet like none earthly she had ever seen, 

A voice that said " Fear not," that spake her name, 

Yet with a music in its utterance 

Unknown in all the minstrelsies of earth. 

But by that blessed " Mary " reassured, 
That name so long a household word in heaven, 
The message fell upon her listening ear 
And beating heart, nor did the angel chide 
When, startled into questioning, she sought 
To know a little of earth's mystery. 

Well might it awe such high intelligence. 
God manifest in flesh, " The Wonderful," 
Laying aside the glory of the skies, 
For pain, reproach, and sorrow, pain that man 
Of nature less intense could never know ! 

" Fear not i Thou shalt conceive and bear a son, 
Jesus his name, son of the living God. 
The throne of David shall to him be given 
And of his kingdom there shall be no end." 



8 Ube Gbrist. 

Awed, Mary answered, " How shall these things be?" 

How then didst thou, Ambassador from heaven, 

Receive the question, and relieve the doubt ? — 

By all that language could convey across 

The gulf of Time which never yet was spanned, — 

And then at length a reassuring word, 

So sweetly human, that she might have sought 

To step across this seeming spaceless gulf 

'Twixt corporeity and spirit realm, 

And pass at will beyond the mystic veil. 

'T was the revealing of another's joy, 
The more than kinship of Elisabeth, 
Knit by similitude of circumstance 
And sweetest sisterhood of sympathy. 

For who that once has stood with bated breath 
Upon the borders of that Wonderland 
Where Beulah plains lie near the gates of Death, 
But feels the isolation of the hour ? 
Rare moments of anticipated bliss 
With their antithesis of sharpest pain, 
Heart-rapture voiced in an exultant song 
That circles back to sadness — back to tears. 
All this the waiting angel seemed to know 
As one to whom all secrets are revealed. 

Then dimly as within a glass she saw 
The Saviour in the child, the Son of God, 



TTbe Hnnuncfation 

The King, the Prophet, and the Priest of men ; 
And in the height of self-forgetfulness 
Exclaimed, with rapture, " Be it as thou wilt, 

Behold the handmaid of the Lord, 

Be it according to thy word." 



Oh for the pencil's power that might portray- 
Some vivid semblance of the wondrous scene : 
Mary, the matchless, halo-crowned with hope, 
Celestial light upon her cheek and brow, 
And Gabriel, that light along his face, 
Pausing before her with arrested wing, 
His head bowed low before the bride of heaven. 
But vain the seeking. Fancy folds her wings, 
And all the glory-rays that greet us here, 
Leave but an adumbration, halo-crowned. 

J. O. S. 



THE JOURNEY OF MARY TO THE HILL 
COUNTRY. 

S~\ ALL-TRANSFORMING love ! What mo- 

^^ ther-heart 

That hears the Angel of Annunciation say 
" Fear not," but fain would bid the Presence stay 

And something of Life's mystery impart. 

Thus Mary, with clasped hands and parted lips, 
Looked up to see the angel vanishing. 
He who had spoken of this wondrous thing 

Had left her thrilled from foot to finger-tips. 

Afar she sees the flash and shade of wings, 
That leave a path of glory as they fly. 
Then earthward turns, if haply to descry, 

The same sweet mystery in common things. 

The bird sits waiting in its covert nest, 
In silent joy. — Here nature's gift sublime 
Of life's new birth, this miracle of time, 

So old, so new, is wrought by heaven's behest. 

Not vexed by thoughts of duty or design, 
This joyous life instinctive meets its plan, 
10 



Journey of fl&ars to the tuil Country. 1 1 

Without the " how " and " why " that restless 
man 
Has sought to grasp, yet baffled must resign. 

By Nature taught it goes its common way, 
With songs and tender chirrup to its brood, 
Seeking no heights nor depths not understood 

By feathered sage, but hopeful day by day. 

The Virgin lists and ponders in her heart 

The thoughts she cannot speak to living friend, 
And kneeling lowly where the branches bend, 

She consecrates her life to heaven apart. 

Through all the air there floats soft melody, 

The winds careering through the fluttering vines 
Just touch the loosened hair and smooth the lines 

Which on the thoughtful brow unwonted lie. 

Beside her blooms the rose, with lips aflame, 
Its branches bend within her careless hold ; 
With petalled care the flowers their buds enfold — 

Through all the realm of Nature 't is the same. 

'T is love and life beyond our human ken ; 

One voice, one maxim, " Even as thou wilt." 

'T is only art by artifice hath built 
Such solid walls of doubt 'twixt God and men. 

High o'er the vine-clad slopes of Galilee 
The morning sun is speeding on its race, 



12 Gbe Gbxtst. 

The maiden's footsteps almost keeping pace, 
In haste the sister of her soul to see. 

Long is the way, but with such lightsome feet 
The leagues are passed, that flowers look up and 

say, 
Behold, what angel footstep passed this way, 

Did ye not see it in its swift retreat ? 

She lingers, resting on the trellised hills. 
A soul that wakens under Nature's spell 
Looks out from eyes where maiden raptures 
dwell, 

And joy of life her inmost being thrills. 

Here walked the Angel of the Living God, 
And supped with Abram at the close of day ; 
Manoah's fields in just such sunshine lay, 

When awed he listened to the angel's word. 

'T was gentle Ruth came in these fields to glean ; 
Here David in his youthful prowess strong, 
A champion great in war as great in song, 

Dwelt, poet-prophet of the wide demesne. 

Refreshed by waters of the limpid spring, 
She passes on, and ere the day is done 
She meets that sister-mother who has known 

The joyous message she is fain to bring. 

J. O. S. 



ELISABETH'S WELCOME. 

T3LESSED art thou, 'mong women, blessed be 
The holy child for whom the nation waits, 
Make haste, beloved, rest thee within my gates, 
The mother of my Lord hath come to me ! 

Oh, rare new joy, the pulsing hope, the fear, 
Like alternating shadows o'er the plain, 
Sun-rays of hope by storm-cloud overta'en, 

The smile, the sigh, the ecstasy, the tear ! 

How great the rapture of the Virgin's soul, 

" Behold," she said, " the handmaid of the 

Lord ! 
This human temple his divine abode, 
His will be done, supreme is his control." 

J. O. S. 



13 



ANTICIPATION. 



Elisabeth. 



/^OME follow me to where the willows brood, 
^-^ And we will talk of things scarce understood 
By those who ne'er have felt a beating heart 
So near their own, life of their life a part. 

Mary. 

The nested birds their mother-joys express, 
The whole earth sings a song of happiness. 
The star-lambs fill the glorious fields above, 
Their white-fleeced mothers guard with brooding 
love. 

Elisabeth. 

I feel the breath of evening soft and sweet 
Laden with airs from heaven with Love replete. 

Mary. 

All Nature proffers peace to him who brings 
A heart responsive to her whisperings. 

Elisabeth. 

'T is true, 't is true ! e'en now to you and me 
These drooping willows bend caressingly. 
14 



Hnttcf pattern, 15 

Mary. 

See, how each larger leaf doth close enfold 
A tiny emerald in its heart of gold. 

Elisabeth. 

Strange that this boon should also come to me — 
So late, so longed for, — blessed prophecy. 

Mary. 

Thy son, forerunner of another's birth, 
Whose welcome coming blesseth all the earth. 

Elisabeth. 

Did not the angel speak of loss and pain ? 

This note, alas, runs through the prophet's strain. 

Mary. 

Oh, hush ! God's deep designs we may not know, 
Speak not this hour of sacrifice and woe. 

Elisabeth. 

Let gladness be our willing minister 
And leave all else to him who cannot err. 

Mary. 

Yes, let us close our eyes to ill and gloom 
And let no messenger but Love find room. 



16 Zbc Gbrist 



Elisabeth. 



Whence comes this natural lore, thy years so few ? 
Wert thou heaven-taught ? Did God thy mind 
imbue ? 

Mary. 

A soul receptive, listening for God's thought 

In winds and waves and clouds, — by nature taught. 

Elisabeth. 

Speak to my soul and make the meaning clear. 
Why should the babe unborn be held so dear ? 

Mary. 

Like flower to bud, Nature hath willed it so, 
'T is Love alone that bids the heaven-life grow. 

The birds that linger on that nested bough 
Are silent with the joy of motherhood. 

The angels speak in language understood, 
And say : " Fear not, for God is with thee now." 

J. O. S. 



SHEPHERD VOICES. 

(ON THE PLAINS OF BETHLEHEM.) 
(" Let all the angels of God worship him.") 

First Voice. 

1\ /[" Y heart is stirred within me as I trace 

The Father's written sign 
Of constancy upon yon starry space, 

" Forever and for aye " they yonder shine. 

Second Voice. 

Nay, not forever, creatures they of time, 

And not of endless years, — 
Who heard the morning stars in song sublime 

Shall hear the dirge of these supernal spheres. 

Third Voice. 

Yet not till these dim eyes shall see and know 

The glory of the Lord. 
" A branch shall from the root of Jesse grow " — 

Behold the promise in our written Word. 

First Voice. 

Show us, O Master, tell the prophecies 
And make their meaning plain. 
17 



18 Zhe Gbvist. 

And as the mind with inward vision sees, 

Our hearts with rapturous hope shall thrill again. 

Third Voice. 

I will, and those who thirst to know the truth 
Shall first the truth discern ; so wisdom guides. 
'T is fitting study neath these silent skies. 
See space-depths peopled with embodied thoughts, 
That ride at will upon their chariot clouds, 
That mount to yonder dome and touch the stars, 
That bow with reverence at Jehovah's throne 
And mingle with that angel brotherhood 
Who wait the signal for an embassy 
To this earth-isle as harbingers of joy. 

Come, let us bow the knee ! The hosts of God 
Are near, so near ! They give the silence sound, 
They fill the vastness of immensity, 
Their white wings touch creation's utmost bound. 

Ye know full well how once in ancient days 
The prophet saw the hidden heavenly host, 
In glittering armor, how all silently 
They led his scattering troops to victory. 

Second Voice. 

O God, anoint our eyes that we may see 
The thousands and ten thousands as did he. 
My soul is awed within me as I hear 
Thy wondrous thought, — that heaven may be so 
near. 



Sbepberfc Woices, 19 

Third Voice. 

Nay, fear not, 't is a very slender veil 

Divides the world of spirit from the real, 

And through this veil God speaks prophetic words ; 

Give ear while these I render reverently. 

Both Voices. 

We will. The hills, the trees, the clinging vines, 
The sun, the stars, all speak his great designs. 

Third Voice. (Reads by the moon's light.) 

" There shall come a star out of Jacob and a sceptre 

shall arise out of Israel." 
" The sun of Righteousness shall arise with healing 

in his wings." 
" He was led as a lamb to the slaughter and as a 

sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he 

opened not his mouth." 
" Yet have I set my king upon my holy hill of 

Zion." 

First Voice. 

But why, O Master, if he be a king, 
Why all the prophecies of minor strain 
That point to bleeding and to sacrifice ? 

Third Voice. 

Because, by blood alone remission comes, 
A Priest, a holy Saviour and a King, 
And still a voluntary sacrifice. 



20 Zbc Gbrist* 

Both Voices. 
But when, O Master, when shall these things be ? 

Third Voice. 
Behold the time is even now at hand. 
A Virgin shall conceive and bear a son 
And thou shalt call his name Immanuel 
And he shall save the people from their sins. 
And Bethlehem his promised natal home, 
Thou least of Juda's thousands, yet so great, 
For thou shalt bear the ruler of the world ! 

Behold, behold, the glory in the air ! 
The very door of heaven is thrown ajar, 
And hither comes a winged messenger, — 
I tremble ! 't is the Angel of the Lord ! 

Gabriel. 
Fear not ! I bring you good tidings of great joy 

which shall be to all people. 
For unto you is born this day in the city of David 

a Saviour which is Christ the Lord. 
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, the 
whole earth is full of his glory ! 
Earth Voices. 
What meaneth this transcendant melody ? 

Gabriel. 
These are the angel choristers of heaven. 
And ye shall join with all the sons of God 
In praises of Jehovah's gift to men. 

J. O. S. 



ANGEL CHORISTERS. 

THHREE angels held the glittering star 
A And sailed the ether through, — 
Earth-spirits viewed it from afar 
That gem in midnight's blue. 

Faith pointed to the manger bed 

Among the lowing kine, 
Hope downward gazed and onward led 

To clasp the babe divine. 

But Love, the foremost of the three, 

Held high her starry crown 
While that transcendant melody 

Through darkness floated down, — 

Song that from Amphion lyre might spring, 

So wondrous sweet it fell, 
While sailing near on zephyr's wing, 

Their rapture-songs to tell. 

*T was Peace on earth, Good will to man, 
On this " earth's bridal morn," 

From arch to arch the tidings ran, 
The Christ of God is born ! 

J. O. S. 

21 



THE MANGER. 

TN sandals of silence and turban of blue, 

Wild glancing with jewels the midnight came 
through 
By the way of the desert, attended with streams 
Of the lances of moonshine and shadows and 
dreams. 

And he came where the dwellings of Bethlehem lay 

On the hillside, and halted his mystic array, 

And the mist-tents were pitched, and the spears 

drawn around 
Where a slumbering inn by the wayside was found. 

Then an angel came down from the sky in a flame, 
And the bright spears gave back for his steps as he 

came, 
And he passed to the door of a low-lying shed, 
Where the laboring cattle were sheltered and fed. 

And he breathed on the place and fled back as he 

came, 
And the bright spears gave way for the feet of the 

flame : 



So he passed, and the humble ones saw not the 

sign 
Who were gathered that night round that birth-bed 

divine. 

But the sound of a murmur, the voice of a cry, 
Filled their ears while they lingered expectantly by, 
And their hearts and their sinews were wax at the 

sound, 
And they worshipped, scarce wisting, bowed low to 
the ground. 

Then they rose, and with Joseph and Mary as one 
Rejoiced at the birth of the marvellous Son : 
And the host of the night with its spears had with- 
drawn 
When they walked forth in gladness in Bethlehem's 
dawn. 

At the voice of the God-child they worshipped 

that night 
Though they knew not, compelled by an angel of 

might ; 
At the voice of the God-man we worship to-day, — 
The hosts that his spirit has moulded as clay. 

'T is the voice that shall summon the quick and the 

dead 
At his coming in glory, when earth-scenes are sped ; 



24 Ube Cbrfst 

' T is the voice we shall hear when he gathers his 

own, 
The ripe sheaves of time, to his garner and throne. 

But here on our journey ' twixt cradle and throne, 
Oh, the manger, the manger, the manger 's our own ! 
And the light of its story and glory shall cheer 
These hearts — human hearts — till our Shiloh 
appear. 

O. C. A. 



MOTHERHOOD. 

"\ \ fHAT, Mary, Mother, meant such gift to thee ? 

* What rapture must have lingered in thy kiss 
In other hearts this wakeful ecstasy 
Doth thrill each sense with an absorbing bliss. 
Didst see the aureole about his head ? 
Or didst thou shudder as the thorny crown 
Of future weaving cast its shadow down, — 
Light-footed joy by sorrow over-sped ? 
Didst worship with them as they bent the knee 
Beside thy lowly couch to crown him king ? — 
Yet trembled not at Love's idolatry 
When angels came his cradle-song to sing ? 
No wrong for thee to worship at his shrine. 
For he was God, oh, mystery divine ! 

J. O. S. 



25 



WITH THE DOCTORS. 



T1TITH0UT, the temple basked in heat, 
But in the court the airs were cool, 
And there from out the city street, 
With stir of robes and tread of feet 
Gathered the Rabbins' sacred school. 



A hollow court piled round with shade 

Of that great temple-dream divine, 
It slept, with cooling marble laid, 
A place for contemplation made, 
A quiet harbor and a shrine. 

There came grave teachers frosted white 
With rime of years, and faces pale, 

But eyes still bright with learning's light ; 

And youth, with crisped locks like night, 
Or fair, with ruddy looks and hale. 

Old lions, warders of the law, 

Amid their young couched or reclined, 
Who out of sacred rolls, with awe, 
Taught " Thus said God," but feebly saw 

The spirit in the text enshrined. 
26 



TKHitb tbe Doctors, 27 

But 'mid the grayness of the place 

To-day had sunshine entered there ; 
Each Rabbin felt — but could not trace — 
A presence fine, a warmth, a grace, 
Unwonted in that straitened air. 

Then rose a scribe with frosted poll, 

And read in measured tones and high, 
Emotionless, from out a roll, 
Things fiery from a prophet's soul, 

Then ceased and laid the parchment by. 

Then stood a man of restless mood, 
And tongue of golden eloquence, 

In pictured phrases, apt and good, 

Interpreting to that young brood 
The Scripture's high significance ; 

And sat ; and followed thence the hour 

Of wonted question and reply. 
What winged thoughts and subtle power ! 
But not a breath from love's deep bower 

Blew there to melt and sanctify. 

Till one hoar Rabbin closed his roll, 
And slowly rose and looked around, — 

" Of all that's written this the whole : 

Man's only welfare, life and soul, 
In strict obedience is found. 



28 Ube Christ, 

" Such is the law." And one, a youth, 
With voice most like an angel's song, 
And eyes of light and brow of truth, 
Replied : " Nay, Rabbi ; but in sooth, 
Is it not love that slays the wrong ? " 

Into the grayness of the place 

The beam had flashed its message fair ; 
A flood of warmth and cheer and grace 
Bathed all, and mellowed o'er each face 
Of those grave Rabbins gathered there. 

And some perchance sat there that day 

Who after sought that light and found, 
In him who cried, " I am the way, 
The truth, the life ! " and blessed the ray 
And followed it the world around. 

O. C. A. 



HOW IS IT THAT YE SOUGHT ME ? 

Strange silence keeps the Word 
On that which lies so near the mother-heart, — 
That first decade of earth-life for the Son, 
His boyhood, his development of soul, 
From cradle up to manhood's proud estate. 

Was he a loving, a responsive babe, 
Was he a boy knight, righting every wrong ? 
He who has been portrayed by reverent pens 
Through all the centuries' art and poetry, — 
The Child and the Madonna, beautiful 
With every human and angelic grace, 
And always in such close companionship, 
As if the love were more than human thought 
Could fathom or portray. 

But once, just once 
In passing view we see the boy of twelve 
Discoursing with the Doctors, heavenly wise, 
And they spellbound, entranced listeners. 

What meaning in his answer, while, alarmed, 
The Mother urged her sweet solicitude — 
29 



3© Ube Gbrist. 

" How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not 
That I must be about my Father's business ? " Here 
A flash which shows how he had fondly hoped 
That she of all the world would understand, 
For earnest converse they had ever held, 
Discoursing past and future, pained with all 
The sad, discordant music of the world. 

When the prophetic instinct touched his soul, 
With marvellous distinctness he had traced 
Those lines as sun-rays centred all in him, 
And at her knee in listening wonder learned 
The story of his birth so heralded 
By angel music and by hovering star. 

And as he grew in winsome perfectness 
He may have told her that to him was given 
The power to lift those strains of misery 
Into the realm of joy unspeakable, 
By means of his divine humanity. 

But even though she thought of Gabriel's words 
And of the wise men at that manger bed, 
And traced those startling lines of prophecy, 
She could not see him halo-crowned the while ; 
He, thoughtful, docile and obedient, 
Self- abnegating, strong, yet gentle too, 
And subject always to parental will — 
How could they see the God in him or know 
How that God-love would fill immensity ? 



t>ow is it tbat pe Sou^bt /IDe? 31 

" How is it that ye sought me ? " 
She pondered all those sayings in her heart ; 
His " wist ye not " of sad reproachfulness, 
Then quick excusing, for how could she know 
Aught save the love that swept her to his heights 
And brought the soul-seen nimbus to her brow ? 

If for a moment he was made to feel 
His utter earthly loneliness, the dearth 
Of comprehensive perfect sympathy, 
No word reproachful from his lips or hers ; 
Forbearance mutual, and fellowship, 
The wonder-worship growing in her heart, 
To see the flower of sweet obedience 
Burst into bloom beside their homely way. 

" He grew in favor both with God and man." 

J. O. S. 



THE DESCENT OF THE DOVE. 

T^HAT bright baptismal morn 

Came winged and vocal with mysterious 
sounds, 
For here was worship-thought so deep, intense, 
That clothed with strange, magnetic fire there 

came 
The Holy Spirit visible to man, 
In fairest, unobtrusive, dove-like form ; 
That Spirit who is hid from eyes of flesh 
Save when that flesh, all dominate by soul, 
Mounts up etherealized and sees strange things 
Not dreamed of in the common hours of life, 
But present in soul-transport such as this. 

And now those words of pure and reverent love, 
Strong in their trust and inborn loyalty, 
When he is seen approaching with the rest, 
And John discovers him with glad surprise, — 
" Lo, I have need to be baptized of thee, 
And comest thou to me ? " 
Here, flashing out as from a summer cloud, — 
That cloud of silence and obscurity 
Which like a veil o'er all his early years 
Had hid the boy, the man, through toiling days, — 
32 



XTbe Bescent ot tbe 2)ox>e. 33 

Here stands he now revealed. So great, so true, 
In all his cousinly companionships, 
Those tests, those surest tests of character, 
That even John is filled with reverent awe, 
And says, with tender lips and heart aglow : 
" Lo, I have need to be baptized of thee, 
And comest thou to me ? " 



Now all the multitude were awed to see 

Heaven's dove descend on that anointed head, 

While voices in the air named him divine, 

And well beloved of God. And John, who knew 

That Messianic secret from his youth 

(Though oft forgot in boyish thoughtlessness 

And dimmed by nearness of relationship), 

Proclaimed it to the people and baptized 

Upon the bank. That supple neck was bent 

Among the rest the symbol to receive, 

And hearts were thrilled to see the snow-white 

dove, 
And hear the voice, " This my beloved Son ! " 

What twofold meaning for the Son of Man 
This rite, this consecration ? — crystal drops 
To symbolize the baptism of the earth 
With all its tears, its rain of tears and blood, 
While hovered over him the holy dove 
To symbolize the baptism of the heavens — 
That holier baptism where white-winged peace, 



34 Ube Gbrist, 

Breathed by the Spirit on his sacred head, 

A dove-like presence hovering undismayed, 

As earth and heaven clasped hands for this brief 

space, 
And banished dark Despair to his own realm. 

J. O. S. 



THE TEMPTATION. 

T^ROM lonely contemplatio?i of the theme 

Of Christ and his temptation on the mount % 
And all its gracious issues to our race, 
Swimming toward sleep at midnight, suddenly 
A presence stood beside my couch and spake. 

Two spirits strive for empire of the earth, 

Two spirits struggle in the breast of man, — 

The spirit of ambition and desire 

(Blood-born is he and flushed with carnal heat), 

The spirit of true faith and abstinence 

(Clear as the sun without a shade is he). 

'T was these that on the Quarantanian mount 

Launched sheer toward heaven a cloud that moves 

not yet, 
After long world-length conflict, closed at last 
In that gigantic strife that shook the worlds, 
While spirits and men and angels hung with awe 
Upon its issue, victory or defeat 
To him who bore the sword for this spent world 

I who am spirit now was then a man, 
A wily Arab wandering with my tribe, 
Subsisting in the desert lawlessly, 
Robbers of men and time. 

35 



36 TTbe Gbrist 

A league away 
From yon gray pile of everlasting rock, 
Called by our tribe The Prophet, there our camp 
Lay pitched that day beneath the sun's wide glare, 
Amid the omnipresent desert wastes, 
And few men stirred abroad. The dogs lay still, 
Lolling within the shadow of the tents ; 
The voices of the children meanwhile came 
Languidly from within, like voices speaking 
Remotely out of dreamland ; and the tents 
Sagged lifeless all around their dusky cirque, 
Whose every rope shone burnished in the glare, 
And every tent-pin. In the palm grove nigh, 
Holding a ghost of coolness, stamped the beasts, 
To start the swarm of pests that drove them mad 
With merciless maraudings on their flanks ; 
Scattered beneath the trees men. lounged in groups 
Or slept amid their gear ; and all was still. 

About the middle hour of afternoon 
Along the way that led from Jordan forth, 
Touching our camp, and onward so to the hills, 
A stranger moved, unarmed. He seemed a youth 
Of Israel's men, of whom some passed that way 
In those strange days, from baptism of their John, 
That great voice crying in the wilderness, 
" Repent ye, for God's kingdom is at hand ! " 

Tall was the youth like some young palm, and fair 
As Huleh's gorgeous lilies where they wave 



Uhe ZTemptation. 37 

And dream among the meads. And as he passed 
The men aroused, and some — the fiercest — glared 
Upon him muttering, but let him pass, 
O'erawed in their wild souls they knew not why. 
And thus unto the hills he held his way, 
Till, dwindled to a far uncertainty 
Upon the glimmering plain, the mighty shadow 
Outstretched of that fierce rock caught him from 

sight. 
And thence began to work that holy wine 
Of miracle, that after stung all veins, 
Lightened in every heart, and flushed all eyes 
With wonders — wonders hailed in both God's 

worlds. 

And on another morn our tents were struck, 
And following in the footsteps of that form 
We pitched within the shadow of the rock, 
Grateful to man and beast. There, too, some palms 
Offered their stately welcome from the sun ; 
So hospitably entreated noon and eve, 
Alternately in tents of rock and leaf, 
We rested well content. And from that day 
Through forty desert suns great things befel 
Of unaccustomed wonder, now with time 
Become the common treasures of the world. 

I know not whether any save myself 

Beheld aught strange. The mass of men are dull 

Of finer apprehension. I was one 



38 XTbe Cbrist* 

Given from my youth to visions and to dreams, 

And vague illuminations day or night, 

And deep, unearthly voices heard within. 

God touches with his splendor but few eyes, 

And mine were of them. But my fellows saw not, 

Or seeing noted not — dark to those signs. 

I, sitting in my tent door in the cool 

Of eve, upon the passing of the sun, 

Lifted my eyes by chance upon that crag, 

And saw what seemed to be a monstrous veil 

Of wind-blown drapery descend from heaven 

Around the mountain, like the wizard's tent, 

All of ethereal texture wove. The mount 

Betrayed its giant outline through its web, 

But not a crag or gulf. And there it hung — 

Day after day, day after day it hung ; 

Rising at morning I beheld it there, 

Resting at evening I beheld it still, 

And still it hovered in the breathless air 

Of the desert, while the days burned slow with fire 

From unabating suns. Men named it cloud 

Who saw not with the visionary eye, 

But unto one enlightened 't was a veil 

Hiding some awful mystery behind. 

And oft in deepest starlight from within, 

Yea, often long into the splendid night, 

There came the voice of beasts unto my ears, — 

Deep roars beneath in lordly lion tones, 

Answered from higher up by shrilling cries 

Pealing far off in darkness. And again, 



XLhe temptation. 39 

From farther off sole wailings desolate, 
Of anger or of terror, pierced the night. 

For nine-and-thirty days within my sight 
That veil hung unremoved. As many nights 
Sounded the voice of beasts from out the mount. 
But on the fortieth day toward eve there passed 
Another lonely stranger by our camp, 
Speeding with eager sandals toward the mount, 
That goal of sudden pilgrims. Tall was he 
And shrunken like a withered palm, and grim 
As Damur's raven shadowing the sands 
By evil driven abroad. I cannot say 
Aught more of his resemblance ; 't was his eyes 
That most I saw, and they were terrible, — 
The look they turned on me 't was not of man — 
Its horror thrills me yet. He passed and brake 
The veil of shadows compassing the mount, 
And entered as a conqueror to his tent. 

That night was heard no beast within the hill, 
But in the first watch of the night a shaft 
Of God's sharp fire lit on The Prophet's head, 
And after forty days of brooding spake 
His voice and prophesied in fire and storm, 
And blackness and confusion smote the world. 
Earth reeked beneath, the sky howled overhead, 
In streams of roaring rain and rushing wind, 
Bolt after bolt fell sparkling, and the thunder 
Ran rattling down the sounding halls of night ; 



4o Ube Gbrist, 

And all the people fled into their tents, 

Some sullen, some with trembling, all with awe. 

And half the night, except for intervals 

Of blackest hush, the tempest scourged the land, 

While the mad stream ran frothing with great 

bounds 
Into the darkness headlong. But ere morn 
The scourge moved on ; and through the bright, hot 

day, 
Hushed to a breath, that awe of cloud still hung 
Intense about the crag, and never moved. 
But all that day within my blood I felt 
A deep disturbance. Thrills of good and ill 
Alternately possessed my trembling soul, 
High tides of exultation, ecstasy, 
Old desolations from the dusk of time, 
And gross abasements — princedoms, poverties, 
Purple and rags of spirit clanged within. 
My body wandered restless through the camp, 
Where all alike were restless, men and wives, 
Children and dogs — but none so moved as I. 
And even the tethered beasts beneath the palms, — 
Some spirit plagued them too, to champ and shift. 
But in mid-afternoon there came a change : 
Cool winds began to blow along the plain, 
The veil that hid the crag began to stir, 
Swayed as a tent sways smitten by the wind, 
Then broke into a thousand wreaths and curls, 
And vanished like a flock of doves in air, 
Showing The Prophet's figure with the sun 



Ubc temptation. 41. 

Set like a flaming jewel on his crown, 

Gilding his ancient wrinkles. Then, while blew 

A sweet breath bearing freedom through each soul, 

And while the birds sang as in paradise, 

And while the stream ran flashing through the 

sands, 
From out the crag's vast shadow stepped a form, 
Gliding with stealthy sandals from the mount, — 
The same that yesterday had passed that way — 
The same, but now how changed ! Sunk that 

proud port, 
Gone all that high-flown pride and confidence, 
Majestic in malign obscurity, — 
A spirit baffled, beaten and o'erthrown, 
Stealing from off the scene of dire defeat, — 
Yea, was he changed ! even to those terrible eyes, 
One seven times now more evil — eyes of serpent, 
Broken but not destroyed. Oh, poisonous orbs, 
O'ercharged with evil promise for mankind ! 
And all that night a calm and gracious light 
Played o'er those hills and sanctified each crag 
And lonely hollow with its sacred beams ; 
And lesser lights all night went to and fro, 
Ascending and descending ; while sweet sounds, 
Dearer than voice of breezes through the palms, 
Came faintly from above. And I was smitten 
In spirit with a joy before unknown ; 
And I was lifted up and prophesied 
Of things I knew not. And from that day forth, 
Moved as the Phantom spake, my tongue was heard 



42 Ube Gbrist. 

s In prophecy of things unknown and known, — 

Sometimes 'mong men, sometimes 'mid palms and 

springs 
And hills and lonely deserts where I roved, 
Loyal forever to that sovereign Light 

' That caught me from the lonesome tracts of death, 

Whence I became the prophet of the wastes, 
Baptized and girded, with wild heart and tongue 
Preaching the triumph of the Christ of God 
Over the tents of Evil on that mount — 
Wherefrom men take new courage and fight on, 
Foreseeing Satan spoiled, his empire sunk, 
His planet like the lightning fallen from heaven, 
And earth's first monarch regnant in the earth. 

I am a spirit now ; my way hath been 

An age among the happy tribes of heaven; 

But see with what strong magic even now, 

That last sweet passion of my earthly years 

To teach men my great story, sends me forth 

To tell it here at midnight in thine ear 

With the old speech and rapture. . . . But I 

hear, 
Far off and faint, one calling, and I go 
Where bloom the thirstless plains of heaven — 
Farewell. 

O. C. A. 



FOLLOW ME. 

TIT" HAT power in that divine command 

That all the twelve, obeying, 
Arose as one with clasp of hand 
For service — an unselfish band, 
No vain regret delaying. 

And how he loved them every one, 

Their human needs excusing, 
Gently or strongly leading on 
That upward, sunward path where shone 

Heaven's virtues for their choosing. 

That there was one whose sordid aim, 

Whose doubt and stern denial, 
Should one day his forbearance claim, 
Brought neither banishment nor blame — 
Far hence his hour of trial. 

J. O. S. 



43 



MOUNTAIN HEIGHTS. 

(" He went up into a mountain : and when he was set, his 
disciples came unto him.") 

C TILL more and more the thought within me 

grows, 
That on this mount the Christly spirit rose 
On wings of thought above earth's toil and stress 
To his own heaven of perfect holiness. 

And yet so full of sympathy divine 
For all our human faults, that line on line 
He gave for guidance in those forceful strains 
Which pierced the world's heart with repentant 
pains. 

And now, who reads the " Blesseds " can but feel 
That here is balm our deepest wrongs to heal ; 
Who all those strong persuasions hears and heeds 
Finds help beyond his ken for hourly needs. 

Upon that soul no evil thought intrudes 
Who daily dwells with these beatitudes, 
And he who holds this altruistic plan 
Grows to the stature of the perfect man. 

J. O. S. 



44 



LILY OF THE VALLEY. 

(" Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow.") 

TJ E looked on thee, 

A A Upon thy swaying bells 

Down-drooping low, 

And saw the tint of shells 

Flush o'er thy petal's snow ; 

Then flashed the simile 

Which age on age has made thee, Lily fair, 
Sweet symbol of our Father's thought and care. 

J. O. S. 



45 



LESSON OF THE SPARROW. 

(" Are ye not of more value than many sparrows ?") 

DROWN little bird, so watchful and intent, 
*-* Seeking thy crumb-loaf for thy tender brood, 

No awe of him who held the multitude 
Where the o'er-arching skies above them bent. 

But thou, brown wingling, gav'st a text that morn 
Which thousand eager tongues have amplified : 
As thou dost for thy tender young provide, 

E'en so our Father, — Let not Doubt be born. 

J. O. S. 



46 



THE FIRST MIRACLE. 

'"PHE wedding feast is spread, 
And messengers have sped, 
Along the highway, through the village street, 
To bid the guests, kinsmen and friends, to meet. 

But lo, what oversight ! 

Where is the heart's delight, 
Which opes the lips and makes the cheek to glow, — 
The sparkling wine which should in plenty flow ? 

Flushed with expectancy, 

Came Mary then to see 
Her royal son, — if he their straits should know 
His power could make the ruby liquid flow. 

" They have no wine ! " 

Surely his power divine 
Could rectify this wrong. 'T was not, " Ye must," 
Yet in her eyes he read sublimest trust. 

Did he rebuke her then, 

What time he turned again 
And spake that quick, electrifying word, 
Which well she understood ? — With soul so stirred 

47 



48 Ube Gbrist* 

To depths profound 

He looked upon the ground, 
And then those words, of modest grace the sum, 
" Woman ! Know thou, mine hour is not yet 
come." 

Woman, that sweetest word 
Which mother-heart e'er heard, 
Combining all of love and tenderness, 
No breath of censure but a lip's caress. 

With voice of firm command 

She bade the servants stand 
And do his bidding ; then, without a word 
They knew their Master and his power adored. 

Then, without word or sign, 

The water turned to wine ; 
The wine blushed red within the circling cup, 
While mortals with their God were called to sup. 

J. O. S. 



THE LEPERS. 

"\J INE dying men of Israel's clan, 
And one despised Samaritan, 
Ten lepers we, outcast of man, 
Unclean, unclean, unclean ! 

By misery together thrown, 
Loathed and self-loathing and alone, 
We lived to hear each other groan — 
Unclean, unclean, unclean ! 

Homeless and friendless all ! To lie 
In summer 'neath the open sky, 
In winter 'midst the lazar's sty, 
Oh, mournfully unclean ! 

To feel no hope from day to day, 
To lie, to rise, in deep dismay, 
And breathing, slowly rot away, 
Unclean, unclean, unclean ! 

Poor dying men that could not die, 
Oh, ghastly spectres to men's eye, 
Far off to stand and piteous cry, 
Unclean, unclean, unclean ! 
49 



5© Zbc Gbrist, 

Such we, when the new prophet's fame 
Round Israel's borders ran like flame, 
Who forth from God with wonders came, 
To make the unclean clean. 

Amid our groanings oft we spoke 
Together, till our hope awoke, — 
May he not ease our bitter yoke, 
Who pity hath on helpless folk, 
Even us, tho' thus unclean ? 

At first in whispers ; but anon 
Our hope a braver mood took on, 
Till faith a heavenly height had won 
Toward him, to make us clean. 

Till, on a day into our ear 
A spirit spake, distinct and clear : 
" To-day the Healer passeth near, 
Rise, go, and be ye clean ! " 

With hearts on fire we ran, and stood 
Over against a multitude, 
Poured through a highway fair and good, 
That ran fresh fields between. 

The one that went before them bore 
That port the ancient prophets wore, 
Fair locks behind, and beard before, 
And calm and gracious mien. 



XTbe Xepers. 5 1 

Then spake the Spirit in our ear : 
" Behold, the Christ of God draws near ! 
Watch when he passes, stand ye here, 
And cry, ' Lord, make us clean ! ' " 

And we, obedient, standing thus, 
Our piteous voices raised : "Jesus, 
Master, be merciful to us, 

And make our foulness clean ! " 

He heard, he paused, he turned deep eyes 
A-dream with hoarded mysteries 
A moment on our ghastly guise 
With contemplative mien. 

Then said — the voice with which he spake 
Was musical as winds that wake, 
And all the lively branches shake 
Of fig trees blowing green — 

" Go shew yourselves unto the priest," 
Nor spake he aught beside, but ceased ; 
But oh, the music ! — what a feast 
To such starved souls and lean ! 

And while we went at his command, 
A spell came o'er me, warm and bland ; 
I felt the power, I knew the hand, 
That made my body clean. 

Then all at once that company 
Cried one to other wonderingly, — 



52 Gbe Gbrtst 

" O brother ! how is it with thee ? 
Behold, I 'm clean ! I 'm clean ! " 

And while our spirit in us burned, 
With strong desire my bosom yearned, 
And something smote me, and I turned 
'Twixt pain and rapture keen, 

And ran, with scarce a will or choice, 
With melting heart, but mighty voice, 
Crying : " Praise God ! O Soul rejoice 
In him who makes thee clean ! " 

And came and fell before his feet 
With melted heart and rapture sweet, 
And gave him thanks and worship meet, 
Whose grace had made us clean. 

His voice like balm flowed o'er my head — 
Balm somewhat sorrowfully shed — 
As to the multitude he said : 

" Were there not ten made clean ? 

" Where are the nine ? Behold him lie, 
Of all those dead men ye heard cry, 
Alone returned to glorify 

God, who hath made him clean. 

" Thou stranger, rise and go thy way, 
* Thy faith hath made thee whole this day ' ; 
Whole went I forth, yea even as they 
In Israel thus made clean." 

O. C. A. 



HE WROTE UPON THE GROUND. 

1X7 HAT wrote he there ? 

Sages have asked and scholars sought to 
know 
And painters reproduced the fancied words 
So long since swept away by sands of time, 
But not obliterate, for woman's lore 
Has this strange act interpreted, and read 
His meaning, beautiful and delicate, 
Angelic in his sensibility. 
It was not what he wrote, but what he felt 
Of sweet compassion for wronged womanhood ; 
He would not shame her by a single glance 
Before that ruffian-souled accusing horde. 

She stood before him with her downcast eyes, 
Lips parted for one word in self-defence 
If her weak voice might rise above the din ; 
But awed to silence by his majesty 
She stood and gazed, drawn upward by his strength 
Into an atmosphere of purity 
That thrilled the while it pacified her soul, 
And told her that his verdict would be just, — 
Both just and kind, she knew it must be so. 
53 



54 Ube Cbrist 

They waited, watching with their glare intent 
To tangle him in disquisitious strife, 
And force his lips to say that law should slay 
By direful, brutal, death-compelling blows, — 
Wondering abashed why he had lowly stooped 
To write upon the ground. Did he not hear ? — 
So filled with that sublime indifference ! 

His motive, far beyond their guilty minds, 

Appealed alone to her who trembling stood 

Waiting in silence for his final word, — 

Unable to escape from their foul cries 

And ribald speech and coarse accusing tongues, 

Yet in their presence not a single glance 

To bid shame's crimson flame up in her cheeks. 

" Whoso among you is without all sin, 
Cast the first stone." Then stooped again and 
wrote. 

He quelled them by the fiat of his power 

And by that all-compelling conscience stroke, 

Till all had slunk away beneath that lash 

And left them there alone. He wrote no more, 

But stood before her in his majesty 

With that divine compassion in his glance. 

She saw that he was God, — no human judge, 

On some false accusation prone to act, 

By stony glare to chill and petrify 

Until her very heart to stone should turn, 

Lest iron code, Mosaic, hurl to death. 



1be Mrote upon tbe Grounfc. 55 

By right of his great-souled humanity 
He was impelled to write upon the ground, 
That he might give no glance to disconcert, 
Might speak no word to aggravate her pain 
While she was glared at by those fiends of hell. 

But yet, when all had vanished one by one, 
He read the tumult of her sorrowing heart, 
And asked at length where her accusers were. 

" Hath no man thee condemned ? " he gently 

asked, 
And then with sinking heart she faltered, " No." 
" Neither do I condemn thee. Go and sin no more ! " 

What wonder that through all his public years 

She was his humble follower afar, 

Her grateful heart with love and worship filled ; 

Or that for womanhood till time shall end 

She stands the synonym for sorrowing love, 

Anointing for love's burial. Who follows far, 

Who looks and worships, but who comes not near, 

Who breaks no precious alabaster box, 

No spikenard brings, nor soft caressing coils 

Of raven hair to bind his weary feet, — 

But with sad, straining eyes and bleeding heart 

Who follows, follows to love's Calvary. 

J. O. S. 



THE ALABASTER BOX. 

"\ A/'EARIED, at daylight's close he sat at meat 
In Simon's house after the dust and heat, 
When all the multitude had passed to rest, 
Like crests of foam lost in the ocean's breast. 
But in the gloaming came a presence sweet — 
Almost ethereal — from the darkening street, 
And bending near, with reverent love she broke 
The alabaster box with one swift stroke. 

A fragrance as of thousand lily blooms 
In this most costly essence filled the rooms. 
Anointing then his head with fond caress, 
Down to his sandaled feet each shining tress 
Fell soft in folds. Her lustrous shining bands, 
Those bright magnetic and caressing strands, 
Seemed made for Eastern lavishness of love 
That meant no wrong but worshipful remove. 

" Stay ! " said the scornful voice of prudence, fain 
To crush all passion in relentless pain ; 
" Stay, stay ! — this costly ointment might be sold, 
And bring into our coffers untold gold. 
It might be kept and lavished on the poor, 
The palsied poor that beg from door to door." 
56 



Ubc Blabaster :Bos* 57 

The Master saw the tears, the hope elate, 
Would he too think the sacrifice too great ? 
Too great for him but for the beggar small ! 
Dear Lord, too great for thee, who gavest all ? 
She thought of all his self-forgetfulness, 
His helpfulness to all in dire distress, 
Would he too look a frown and send her hence ? 
Her beauteous eyes were full of penitence. 

Nay, he rebuked the ever sordid mind 

And said with gentlest glance, so heavenly kind, 

" Let her alone ; this act of love for me 
Her sweet memorial shall ever be." 

And then reminding those whose sordid aim 
Revealed itself as oft to-day the same 
{" The poor, the poor," to hide the poorer soul 
And hoard what they can gather, roll on roll), — 

" She thought to help the One who loved the poor 
Far better than to give of her lone store. 
These ye have always with you, but your Lord 
Soon goeth hence, and she with sweetest word 
Hath done this for my burial — she alone." 
And then he blessed her, he, our sinless One. 

Oh, woman ! thy love-tribute paid to him 
Thrills through the ages its blest rapture hymn, 
And its acceptance brings us all with thee 
Within the arc of his humanity. 

J. O. S. 



BETHANY. 

T^rHEN Jesus came to Bethany 

The doves moaned low in the olive tree ; 
Through the hollow heaven a hoarse wind ran, 
Where the low clouds trooped like a caravan ; 
The hills lay heaped in gloom around, 
And a dimness brooded along the ground. 

The timid faces of flowers bent 
Low o'er the earth where his pathway went, 
And the grass bowed low to meet the sod 
Where the feet of the moody East wind trod, 
That gathered the dust of the way in its hand, 
And sowed it like grain along the land. 

And down and around where the black rocks lay, 
The stream went by in its dull, blind way, 
Lipping the banks with a tremulous moan, 
Burdened with dead leaves over it strewn ; 
Dark was its heart as a maid's that lies 
Of its light forlorn, and a fount of sighs. 

There was gloom and trouble in Bethany 
When Jesus came with his company ; 
With swarthy faces and dusky eyes, 
The Jews were gathered in mourning guise, 
58 



Betbans. 59 

And sat, and one and another spake 

Their comforting things for the sisters' sake. 

And dark in the house sat the phantom of Death, 
Blighting the air with its earthy breath, 
Where a sister heart was a shattered cup, 
And another a deep well broken up ; 
And heavy his presence sat that day 
As the stone that over the dead man lay. 

For Lazarus, brother, and helper, and friend, 
Lay in his grave at the garden's end, 
The days of a good man's labors told, 
The mystic writing together rolled, — 
Life mused of her mortality 
When Jesus came to Bethany. 



" Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. 

". . . Then they took away the stone from the 
place where the dead was laid. And Jesus lifted 
up his eyes and said, Father, I thank thee that 
thou hast heard me, 

" And I knew that thou hearest me always, but 
because of the people that stand by I said it, that 
they may believe that thou hast sent me. 

" And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a 
loud voice, Lazarus, come forth. 

" And he that was dead came forth, bound hand 
and foot with graveclothes : and his face was 
bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto 
them, Loose him and let him go." 



6o Zbc Cbrist 

When Jesus went from Bethany 

Joy bloomed behind him like the May, 

The beauty and the mystery 

Of something heavenly brimmed the day. 

The singing wind, the moving leaves, 
The birds that boasted in their joy ; 

The sunlight glowing on the sheaves, 
Like smiles of some heart-happy boy ; 

The day's calm gift of peace serene, 
Broad o'er the ancient mountains lay, 

Their court's grave round — their council scene 
Was filled with light of holiday. 

The sky — a deep blue Galilee — 

Sent forth its fleets of changing cloud — 

Fair sailors o'er how fair a sea ! 

Moved by the breeze as life-endowed. 

And oh the gladness in the heart 
Of poor men in that little town ! 

As if they saw the heavens dispart 
And a strong angel coming down, 

With store of heaven-sent balm for sin, 
And all men's bitter want and woe, 

Freely dispensing all, to win 

Health and sane quiet here below. 



Bet bans* 61 

And voices touched of God were heard 

To praise him there at joyous height ; 
And tongues to sing like morning's bird, 

Through the fair circle of her flight. 

• 
Oh from the roofs the gloom was shed, 

As mountains shed their shades at morn, 

And man went to his labor, led 

By strength that left no hope forlorn. 

And he whom death had straitly bound, 

He walked and labored with them there ; 
Upon their dear accustomed round 

His miracle-loosed feet did fare. 

O gracious day born from afar, 

Of bright immortal memory ; 
'T was as the days of heaven are 

When Jesus went from Bethany. 

O. C. A. 



MOUNT TABOR. 

TV/T ETHOUGHT I saw the chosen Three 
■*- VA Who walked so oft with Christ below, 
Who saw in sad Gethsemane 

Those crimson drops of woe — 
That from their living lips I heard 
The story of our risen Lord. 

They talked to me of Tabor's steep ; 

How tenderly he led them there ; 
When weary, faint, they sank to sleep, 

He knelt alone in prayer. 
Then while they slept strange visions came, 
They thought the mountain all aflame. 

They waked, and saw, with wondering eyes, 
What ne'er to other sight was given — 

He held communion with the skies, 
Bathed in the light of Heaven. 

His face shone as the sun, and lo ! 

His raiment " glistened white as snow." 

They told me of the Two who came 
On swiftest wing, at Heaven's behest — 
62 



flDount Uabor. 6s 

Elijah, who on cloud of flame, 

Ascended to his rest ; 
And Moses, who on Horeb trod, 
And "face to face" communed with God. 

They told me of their wondering fear 
When, pealing through the silent night, 

Came sounds so strange to mortal ear, 
From yonder world of light ; 

When God's own voice proclaimed his Son — 

His Well Beloved, the Glorious One. 

And then they ceased. " O stay ! " I cried, 

" O linger yet, ye favored Three, 
And tell me more of him who died 

On that dear Cross for me ! 
Tell me, what wondrous theme had they 
Who came on such high embassy ? " 

" Wouldst know ? They spake of his decease, 

The woe, the pain of Calvary ; 
Yet on his brow the light of peace 

Still radiant we could see ; 
That brow which sharpest thorns would bear, 
That man a crown of life might wear ! 

" They spake of love too great and high, 
Too deep and vast for us to know ; 

But ah ! we knew that he must die, 
And this was greatest woe ; 



64 XLbe Gbrist, 

We looked, and lo ! the vision gone, 
Our Jesus stood with us alone ! " 

" And did ye still in him behold 
The sunshine of the Father's love ? 

Was all that seemed of earthly mould 
Still radiant from above ? 

And was it precious thus to be 

Alone with such a Friend as he ? " 

I questioned, but no voice replied ; 

The answer to my heart was given ; 
My path of life was glorified 

By this one glimpse of Heaven ; 
A light celestial round me shone 
While / with Jesus stood alone. 



J. O. S. 



GETHSEMANE. 

"T IS not with pity, O my Lord ! 

For thy great agony, 
Mine eyes so oft o'erflow when fixed 
On dark Gethsemane. 

The lonely spot, the sleepless watch, 
While watchers slept around, 

The prayer, the awful sweat that fell 
Like blood upon the ground, 

Move not my pity, thou wert strong 

In thy divinity, 
Legions of glorious angels stood 

To bear thee company. 

'T is pity for man's ruined state 
That makes mine eyes o'erflow, — 

The sin and bitter shame that brought 
The Son of God so low. 

Still keep my soul all pitiful 

Mine eyes compassionate, 
My heart of frailties warm and kind 

For my frail fellows' fate. 
65 



66 Ube Cbrist 

But when thy strife, thy cross, my Lord, 

My deepest spirit thrill, 
Let me in wonder then bow down 

And worship and be still ! 

And still remind me when I look 

On dark Gethsemane 
'T is thou that must be pitiful, — 

We cannot pity thee. 

O. C. A. 



THE BETRAYAL. 

T T angered me to see that wily knave, 

So sleek and sanctimonious without, 
A mine of deep hypocrisy within, 
With those keen greedy jackals bartering there 
As men for beeves trade in the common mart, 
To sell the light and wisdom of the world 
For a lean scrap of gain. It maddened me, 
I say, to watch that reptile at his sport, — 
Once trusted servant of the noblest lord 
Man ever knew, now sunk to basest slave 
And most contemptible, mocked by the men 
Who wrung him out the price of innocent blood ! 

Being but a chartered idler in the land, 
Bound down by no home duties, ties, or kin, 
And privileged at will to come and go, 
Observing that which drew me, I had seen 
The man majestic in his journeyings, 
Sometimes within the synagogues, and once 
Beside the sea, amid a host that girt 
This master of strange eloquence. I heard, 
Amazed, that stream of discourse plough its way 
Through soil of lives compacted down with sin, 
67 



68 Zhc Gbrist. 

Till the will heaved and trembled and went down, 
Uptorn and drowned by that deep flood of power. 

I heard — though shaken not o'ercome — that 

tongue, 
Sweeter than any bird's or angel's song 
On earth or in the heavens, discourse of things 
So near and natural to the heart of man. 
All testified their truth ; but to the mind 
Ofttimes mysterious, heavenly and strange, 
Mystic, impracticable ; and I loved 
The man — the more than man — for his brave truth, 
A sword that cut and healed at one keen stroke. 

So when I heard that traitor dealing there 
To sell that life, my soul stepped forth at once 
His champion and defender. How to thwart 
Those sinners in their game, and balk their end 
Became my instant thought. Cowards I deemed 
They needs must be, in secret so to plot, 
And hunt at night like kindlier beasts their prey. 
I judged them cowards on the spur of thought, 
And took betimes such means as we employ 
To frighten hinds and children. I assumed 
The spectre, that old terror, ever new, 
And wrapped my naked body in a robe 
Of white, to gleam a-sudden from the dark 
Of olive shades upon them at the height 
Of their coarse triumph, scatter them away 
Rolled one upon another in their fright, 



Ubc JBetra^aL 69 

Then snatch their innocent victim swift away 
To some close spot beyond their cognizance, 
Whence, after, he might pass and know no harm. 

The sight the torches made among the trees, 
Joyously tossing down the shadowy gorge 
That cradled murmuring Cedron ! Balls of fire 
Rolled through a chasm of shade from side to side, 
And always as I gazed, one quenched, and then 
Flaming out wild and brilliant, like a star 
Shot from amid a cloud ; and stab, stab, stab, 
The rays went like bright daggers through the 

leaves, 
Making a joyous pageant in the night 
All down the slope, o'er Cedron, and again 
Up the slow shadowy rise to Olivet. 

'T was there the garden lay, thick-set with trees 
Of time-carved trunks, and wild storm-tortured 

limbs 
Stiffened on high, from which broke forth the grace 
Of breathing foliage, the green deeps perfumed 
With wraiths of evening incense through and 

through. 
This was the goal of the torches, this the fold 
Where lay that night that famous company 
John, Peter, and their comrades, on the earth, 
Drowsed with the poppy toil ; where he their Lord 
With all a thousand inner wakeful eyes 
Watched — what wild coming shadows ! 



7o Hbe Gbrist 

And I followed 
Through the deep balmy night blown through with 

breath 
Of flowers from gardens swathed in revery, 
Couched on those shelves that steeply overhung 
The Cedron in his cradle murmuring low. 
And down the path till plunged in double gloom 
At the bottom, where the near stream foamed along 
In darkness, and then upward by the path 
That cleft the trees and straightened up the slope, 
I passed, following the torches, till all came 
To the garden and the moment and the scene. 

I saw the torches like a golden snake 

Draw in their glittering train, and shift and coil, 

And stand a constellation. Then I turned, 

Half circling them, and like a hunter, stole 

From olive tree to olive, till I came 

And saw where stood the Teacher 'mid his band 

Of body-worn disciples dull with sleep 

Prone on the grass, their couch in that wild place. 

And while he stood and spake unto them there 
I heard from out the dimness such words come 
As " Rise and let us go." " Behold at hand 
Him who betrayeth me." And from the nest 
Of torches in the woods stole forth a creature, 
Cloaked, capped, and sandalled with sly secrecy, 
That halted oft and wavered, then slid on, 
As I have seen a cat come towards its prey, 
With velvet tread, and fixed magnetic gaze, 



XTbe JBetrapal. 71 

Incomparable in motion, pausing oft 

With lifted head, stretched neck, and quivering 

flanks, 
Then lower and glide on. So came the beast — 
Judas — the deathless traitor towards his prey. 
And forth he came, and O humanity ! — 
And out he crawled, and O man's soul the sight ! 

shameful sunken life of man ! — the kiss 

With which he met and hailed him ! Then I saw, 

1 witnessed, I beheld with living eyes 

That which 't was rumored had been, yet should be, 

But vainly heard by unanointed ears, 

Satan and God encounter on the earth — 

Meet in this world of men ! God oped mine eyes — 

He gave me second sight in that great hour — 

For this deep revelation — Flash ! then darkness 

Of human sight forever, as before. 

The mask of flesh seemed to be snatched away 

From those two forms ; and there in hideousness 

Stood Satan all unveiled ; and face to face 

With him, that disincarnate majesty 

Of light and truth and wisdom which is Christ. 

And they stood face to face within my sight, 

One knowing, penetrating all, deep seeing 

Beyond humanity, with port and eyes 

Immortal ; and the other dark and vile, 

Anointed o'er with hypocritic gloze — 

In vain ! deceiving not, but self-deceived. 

All ruin, ruin, ruinous, corrupt, 

Fast sinking down to worse ! 



72 Zhe Gbrist, 

'T was then my soul, 
Free-seeing, knew and recognized its lord, 
And knew and recognized its enemy, 
And clove unto the former with full zeal — 
My tamer, my sweet master ! I have heard 
That some, beholding him aris'n to life 
Victorious from the grave-walls, have believed. 
But I, beholding him, self-knowing rise 
That hour to heavenly heights by sacrifice, 
With steps instructed, knowing to what he went 
And whither, all-foreseeing, hero — God, — 
My soul saw all in him, and I believed. 

The rest do all men know. Mark's gospel says, 
How came they with their torches and their slaves 
And took him, he rebuking their rude haste, 
And led him from the garden and away 
Unto their masters, to be judged and doomed, 
While all his comrades fled into the night, 
Fearful, and left him as foretold. And I — 
Forgotten was the cause for which I came, 
Forgotten in the horror of that kiss, 
Forgotten in the keen repentant stab 
There dealt my soul. Forgotten in the light 
My soul received from that sweet sacrifice. 
My purpose, like a cup from out my hand 
Fell shattered, and its contents flowed abroad. 
One only thought and one desire I had, 
One only impulse blind — to follow him. 
And I did follow when the last of his 



Zbc Betrayal 73 

Had gone away and left him. I am he 

Of whom Mark darkly says : " There followed him 

A young man having girt about his body 

A linen cloth, and whom the young men caught, 

Whereat he fled away in nakedness, 

Leaving the linen cloth within their grasp." 

'T was not to give him aid I followed him, 
'T was not in fear of death I fled from him ; 
I know not what it was, or how it came, 
Save that it was his will to walk alone 
That path too high for sons of men to tread, 
Not being like him divine. So 't was his will 
Working through this our weakness made us turn 
And leave him, who yet lived to follow him 
In his own way, by other friendlier paths, 
Where'er he led, and always to the end. 

O. C. A. 



L 



BEFORE PILATE. 

Persons: — Pilate, Pharisee, Citizen, Soldier, etc. 

Citizen. 
OOK ! there he comes ! See that majestic look ! 
He does not seem like one who hath been 
scourged 
With the bare knout, and mocked with foolery 
Of the ironic sceptre, robe, and crown, 
As we beheld a little while ago. 
By Caesar ! but I do admire the man ! 

Pharisee. 

Art thou of his disciples ? Look around : 
Where are they that did follow him of late ? 
Gone, every one. — Thou art the bravest truly 
Of all his followers. 

Citizen. 

I am not of them ; 
Only I have the feeling to admire 
A brave man when I see him. You are many 
Who are his adversaries. You have power : 
His friend were few and feeble and but human. 
'T is piece and parcel of this time for you, 
The strong, to mock and set at nought the weak, 
Though he be the better man. 
74 



before BMlate. 75 

Pharisee. 

Sir, you are free — 
Too free somewhat of speech. Tone down your 

thought, 
Or give it less free range is my advice. 

Citizen. 

Spare your advice and threats ; I am as you 

A citizen of this the Roman state 

And claim and hold as wide a latitude 

Of speech as you may, grumbling at your rulers. 

Soldier. 

By Jove ! what perfect spear-shafts are these doc- 
tors ; 
These wondrous uprights, downrights, thus-and- 

so's, 
So stiff and smooth all round to a hair's breadth ! 
I doubt they find this rough field of the world 
Quite flat enough to stand themselves upon ! 
Lean this way your best ear, my citizen — 
You are a soldier in your heart and speech — 
By Venus, you are right about the man, 
This so-called King of the Jews ! — here is a man 
A Roman can admire with all his heart, 
Clean, clear, unclouded in his speech, and firm 
To face the consequences of his speech. 
I marvel that he did not use the sword, 
'T is in him too to wield it. Sir, if aught 
My orders should compel to do this day 



76 Ubc Gbrist. 

Against such majesty, great Jove forgive ; 
My heart is with the man. 

Fool. 

And so is mine. 
I love this man, and I love Caesar too ; 
Sure, 'tis a mighty thing to be a king. 

Priest. 

Scribes, Pharisees, lords of the Sanhedrim, 

Gather ye here around me now, and be 

Ready in mass to raise our massive cry 

Against him, if our governor should melt, 

And counsel favor for the blasphemer ! 

If Pilate 's weak in favor of this man, 

He 's also weak in favor of the Jews ; 

We'll draw his favor back again to us 

In the last act, and clench it ! How I hate him ! — 

Oh how I loathe yon pale impertinence ! 

We'll give our voice to crucify. All here 

Unanimous ? That's good. Hark ! Pilate speaks. 

Pilate. 
Listen, ye Jews. Here ye behold your king. 

Jews. 
This man is not our king — Caesar is king. 
Away with this one ! Caesar is our king. 

Citizen. 
And yet is Caesar kingly as this man ? 



Betore SMlate. 77 

Women. 

Oh that we only had him for our king, 
How sweet 't would be to serve him ! 

Fool. 

So say I. 
I certainly would serve him night and day. 
Give me the king that heals men when they 're 

sick, 
And feeds them when they 're hungry ; he 's the 

man. 
He healed my cousin of a vile complaint, 
And my cousin he is poor. Give me this man. 

Scribe. 

Fool's folly, cease ! Thy tongue is an offence. 
What cares the king or God for your base body 
Or its diseases ? Perish in your disease ! 
Let soul and body die ; but keep the law. 

Citizen. 

They think to silence all save their own voice. 

Pilate. 

Silence, ye people ! Once more do I ask, 

What evil hath this man done, that he should die ? 

I have chastised him : I will let him go. 

There is no form of justice in your cr, 

Of " Crucify him," dinned into mine ear. 



78 Ube Cbrtst, 

Jews. 
No, no ! Crucify him ! Crucify him ! 

A Voice. 
Yes. Crucify him ! — He is innocent. 

Second Voice. 

Aye. Crucify him ! It were infamy 

For innocence to go free from such wild beasts 

In this wild time. 

Priest. 

Ho, there is treason here ! 
Can we not cause these grunters to be still ? 
Pilate repents again. O weak, weak, weak ! 
Fie on the waverer ! Israel, draw around ! 
Cry the last cry we taught you ere we came, 
'T will thunder like the law in Pilate's ears, 
And bring his wandering senses back. Now all : 
Hear, Governor, the people, their last plea ! 
This time give heed ! If thou let this man go 
Thou art not Caesar's friend ! 

Woman. 

See how he pales 
Before their threats ! Oh, what if they prevail, 
And this fair lamb be given as a prey 
To L. .se J i& beasts, blind in their hearts and 
cruel ! 



Before JMlate. 79 

Fool. 

Nay, they shall never crucify my king ! 
I '11 whisper Pilate that he let him go. 
That would be brave. 

Woman. 

I even would thou couldst 
Rescue this just one. How sublime he looks, 
Standing in meekness, hearing all they say 
Against him, and yet uttering no word. 

Loud Voice. 

I 've just arrived. What is the matter here ? 

Is some one to be crucified, you say ? 

I heard the cry. Why, crucify him then ! 

I am all out of breath, but I 've a voice 

To raise for crucifixion. Who it is 

Or what he 's done, it matters not to me, — 

Crucify him ! Crucify anybody, 

It matters not ; excitement 's what we want ; 

We stagnate here in this Jerusalem 

For want of sport. Crucify him, I say ! 

Another Voice. 

Let it be done, and with him all the world ! 
'T were good if all mankind were crucified, 
And the last crucifiers stabbed or drowned ; 
Then would the world be empty as it was, 
And innocent of this vile race of men. 
All things are useless, life itself is vain ; 



80 Ubc Gbrist. 

We come from nothing, and for nothing stay 
A little while, and then to nothing go. 
Where is the use, the reasonableness of life ? 

Pilate. 

Will ye be silent there ! Hear this my judgment : 
Take ye this man since ye will have it so, 
Bear ye the blame, for I am innocent — 
Behold I wash my hands before you all. 

Jews. 

His blood be on us and upon our children ! 
Now do we know thee Caesar's friend and ours. 
Hail, worthy Pilate ! Thou art Caesar's friend ! 

Woman. 

O blessed Lord ! And is this possible ? 
O cruel world ! What shall become of us ! 

Soldier. 

Forthwith I shall be sick within my tent ! 

Citizen. 

Forthwith are many sick within their hearts, 
And sicker shall the world be in my view, 
Before the garment woven here to-day 
Shall be outworn ! In Jove's view what a time 
And people ! Hear ye this last word from me, 
Ye Jews, — Priests, Scribes, and Pharisees, and all ! 
There is a thing called justice in the earth, 
Justice that has its way or soon or late, 



Betore flMlate. 81 

Mild like your prisoner if coming soon, 
Wild like the last convulsion, coming late, 
Making its way at last mid wreck and ruin. 
And this same justice, it is of the gods. 
Man may assist it. Standing in its way, 
Down sinks in wreck his house, his state, his life. 
Ye have this day in face of earth and heaven 
Refused your man's assistance, turned your backs, 
Nay, heaped your mount of passion in its path, 
And cried, " We bide the issue " : therefore watch, 
For the flood cometh that shall take your souls. 

Woman. 
Oh shame, to lay their hands so rudely on him ! 

Fool. 
It is ; but kings feel not as other men. 

Citizen. 

Once more let me look on him ere he go ! 
Am I confounded in my intellect ? 
Who is the Judge here, who the prisoner ? 
That nervous, anxious man with hiding looks, 
Upon yon dais seated o'er the throng, 
With symbols of authority around ? 
Is he in truth the Judge ? or only dream 
He and the world in this strange session met 
That he is such ? Or is it that large soul, 
Calm and untroubled, seeming to have chains 
Indeed upon him, but in look and mien 
Pronounceably a governor to command, 



82 Ube Gbrist, 

With power to quell all tumults, mould all wills, 
And turn all wrong to right, — is he the Judge ? 
My eyes attest that Pilate is the Judge, 
My soul declares he is the prisoner. 
For from behind the gross form of this deed 
Something there moves — I know not what — a light, 
A shape, that does abide amid all this 
Shifting, unstable substance, shines through it, 
And testifies against it. Aye, there seems 
A falseness, a perversion, in this scene, 
Even as a dream presents things out of shape 
And keeping, makes the substance seem the 

shadow, 
The shadow substance. I am nigh to think 
This scene a semblance only and not fact ; 
I seem to see the fact in that sweet gleam 
Waiting behind to be made manifest 
When we shall wake at last unto ourselves, 
To-day to see existence from behind, 
To-morrow's sun may set us in its front 
And right perspective, and all things around 
In tottering instability survive. 
Another day ere long, we may behold 
Them firmly fixed on their ideal base, 
Not to be moved again. Oh in this world, 
How we do sleep such days out ! but the gods 
They never sleep — this light may be of them, 
A herald of the morning, sweetest morn ! 
Glad sunrise and bright dayspring from on high, 
All fresh with sunny vigor, bright and clear, 



Before flMlate* 83 

To summon us to gladness, when our eyes 
Shall see things as they are, our ears unstopped 
Hear all things first aright. Yea, and who knows, 
Ourselves be light and living in the light. 

There goes to death one like a God on earth. 
Farewell, brave soul !— To-day man's wrath pre- 
vails, 
But holier times shall see thee justified. 

O. C A. 



PILATE AND HEROD BECAME FRIENDS. 

(Luke xxiii., 1-24.) 

O, what indignity to thee, O Christ ! 
*" And yet thou didst submit with kingly grace, 
Their wavering mandates, sent from place to 
place— 
'T was in the steps of thy redemptive plan. 

As heedless of the empty honors thrust 
Upon thee, as of ridicule and shame, 
Forgiving those who darted tongues of blame, 

And those who weakly bowed to their " Ye must ! " 

What vacillating rulers, each at strife, 
Involving realms in their relentless greed, 
But sudden colleagues in that direful deed 

That crowned the sorrows of thy sacred life. 

O Pilate, what a name thou mightst have gained 
Through ages upon ages, hadst thou dared 
To crush their jealousy, their victim spared — 

Hadst held thy better impulse ere it waned. 

But ever since the world began 't is true, 
That weakness is with wickedness akin ; 
The bolt is drawn, and Evil enters in 

And holds high revel with his deadly crew 

84 



BMIate anb fberofc Became ifrienDs, 85 

The thought comes — whence I know not — rev- 
erently, 
Did God need Wrong to put the topmost stone 
On his redemptive plan ? Heaven's lofty throne 

Would be dishonored thus — it could not be. 

That life with deeds so great, with years so few, 
A life full bounded by its third decade, 
Which year by year such wise fulfilment made, — 

Was hell let loose to snap the thread in two ? 

Nay, nay ; but fiends of Hell may work their will, 
'T will be transmute in honor to his name. 
How Pilate's story of unenvied fame 

Hath sent through all the world its horror-thrill ! 

Angels or fiends, kings, beggars, potentates, 
In good or evil play their natural part, 
And Evil vies with Good in wonder's mart, 

And Evil's trumpet-tongue the tale relates. 

Little recked they who such dread sentence passed 

Upon the unresisting Son of Man, 

That e'en their bitter wrath helped on the plan, 
As seeds are caught and driven before the blast. 

How all the deep indignities he bore, 

From hand of Wrong, from scourge and nail and 

crown, 
Have pierced the heart's deep wells as handed 
down — 
Men grasped its meaning from the centuries' store. 



86 ttbe Cbrist 

Christ died for men, for all, — and had they learned 
To bend the ear and on his bidding wait, 
Might not the Son of God, e'en at heaven's gate, 

Have paid the ransom, nor the gift been spurned ? 

But then this wondrous life had waxed and waned 
Within the borders of far Galilee, 
While with averted gaze men would not see 

How much it meant for them, heaven-life regained. 

But here the world stood still and gazed with fear 
On all that Evil wrought, and Nature's cry 
For this great wrong, ascending to the sky, 

Broke forth in bell-peals that the world might hear. 

And so their evil deeds, though in the line 
Of their own fiendish purpose, swiftly stirred 
Men from lethargic sleep ; Revenge was heard 

To lift his voice and hail this King divine. 

He would not seek Elijah's steeds of fire 
With seraph guides and winged charioteers, 
But that he might know all our human fears, 

The path of anguish chose with stern desire. 

He would not lift to heaven a speechless cry, 
In painless ransom, so poor heedless man, 
Had felt no thrill, blind fool since time began, 

'Cept lightning-felled by love's intensity. 



Pilate anD Uteres Became ffrienfcs. 87 

But when the fulness of the perfect time 
Has ripened, how prophetic fingers mark 
The hour, the instrument, and waft the spark 

Of living fire through every distant clime. 

Say not that God the cup of Wrong would fill, 
But that those evil minds on murder bent, 
Transmute, evolved beneficent intent — 

Their natural wrong was herald of his will ; 

And even their cry of hate, a trumpet-tongue 
To echo down the ages, peal on peal. 
Arresting, holding : — He who came to heal 

Forgave them and his love around them flung. 

J. O. S. 



"INASMUCH." 

(" Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these my 
brethren ye did it unto me.") 

OOK up ! sad, disappointed soul, 
•^ Borne down by weight of care. 
Didst thou not help a shuddering one 
Pursued by dark despair ? 

His feet rushed to the brink of death 

On self-destruction bent, 
When lo, thy voice of tenderness 

Swift baffled his intent. 

Christ's " Inasmuch " may not be heard 

'Mid earthly strife and din, 
But gates of heaven shall open wide 

For thee to enter in. 

J. O. S. 



88 



" BEHOLD THY SON ! " 

(" When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple 
standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, 
behold thy son ! Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy 
mother ! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his 
own home.") 

/^AN heaven itself blot out the agony 
^-^ Of that one hour, — to see him bending down 
Beneath his cross, then scourge and nail and 
crown, 
Mary — did not each cruel nail pierce thee ? 

O God ! the mother-heart within me cries, 
While supplicating hands are lifted high : 
Could heaven's own angels know this agony ? 

Nay, birth- and death-pangs are for lower skies. 

But 't was our God-man, all his earth-work done, 
While stung with pain and faint in death's em- 
brace, 
Who saw the woe on that beloved face, 
And spake those tender words, — " Behold thy 
son ! " 

Was this too in thy sacrificial plan ? 

What pains or pangs of earth can e'er compare 
With those fierce throes which lay the spirit 
bare? 
And thou didst feel her grief, O Son of Man ! 

J. O. S. 



ELOI, ELOI, LAMA SABACHTHANI ? 

' I "HE pierced hands, the tortures of the cross, 
A The thrust of spear, of thorn-spikes, — all the 
loss 
Of life-blood flowing from the riven heart, — 
All this before that cry was flung across 

The wide crevasse which earth and heaven 

divides, 
All this ere that stern angel who bestrides 
The tempest-cloud had stooped his heart to still 
Whose fearful shadow at the grave abides. 

Could Heaven have heard that rending Eloi, 
More piercing than the last expiring cry, 
And not have interfered with stern command 
To calm and quell his mental agony ? 

But 't was the God within himself who planned 
This sacrifice and his own thought which spanned 
The bridge of dread and built the shining way 
Where through all ages faltering feet may stand. 

That cry the human longing of his soul 
For spirit succor when the direful whole 
Of physical and mental strain and stress 
First overwhelmed him with its billows-roll. 
90 



Bloi, 3£Ioi t Xama Sabacbtbani? 91 

And when the throng, to their rude natures true, 
Harsh epithets and taunting words flung through 
The startled air, how fell that world-held prayer, — 
" Father, forgive ! . . . They know not what 
they do ! " 

But oh the self-forgetfulness of One 
Who, midst his agony, with tenderest tone, 
Spake to the weeping Mary 'mong the throng, 
And bade his follower take her as his own ! 

And oh the power of him who could decree 
When one who prayed, " O Lord, remember me," 
Could answering say that his blood-ransomed soul 
That day with him in paradise should be ! 

And what the power which rent the vail in twain, 
That bade earth tremble with her horror-pain, 
That robbed the graves of their anointed dead, 
And made them quick and animate again ! 

J. O. S. 



THE CRUCIFIED. 

T SAW a rugged cross upraised, 
And him who perished there 
Amid the souls who stood and gazed 
In triumph or despair. 

I saw the sacred blood that dropped 
From feet and hands and head ; 

Pierced wild and far that bitter cry- 
When his torn spirit fled. 

Then came a sound, it rose afar, 
And rolled like thunder near, 

Beneath me rose the earth and reeled 
As a smitten steed doth rear, 

And sunk with many a trembling throe 
And laboring inward groan ; 

Fierce blasts smote on me from below, 
Like a steed's hot breath outblown. 

And darkness like the doors of death 

Shut round upon the day ; 
And there were cries and flight as when 

The sword runs forth to slay. 
92 



Ube Crucified 93 

And shapes in white amid the night 
Went hurrying here and there ; 

One stooped and peered into my face 
With strange and searching stare. 

'T was all a dream, yet it returns, 

Alike the scene, the place, 
It comes and grows upon my thought 

Amid the day's broad space. 

The place, the scene, the same, but changed, 

The victim raised in air, — 
Yea, changed, — for gazing on his face 

I see my own face there. 

Oh raised amid the solemn scene, 

My form, my face, appear ; 
Mine the torn brow, the hands, the side, 

The thorn, the nail, the spear ! 

It stays nor will be otherwise, 

Nor ever else can be ; 
My frame, my heart of sin it was 

That perished on the tree. 

O King, who conquered my strong sin 

On that all-fearful day, 
What may thy grateful freeman bring 

Who cannot aught repay ? 
Thy faithful knight through dark and bright, 

I '11 hear thee and obey. 

O. C. A. 



THE WEEPING WILLOW OF 
GETHSEMANE. 

O willow, why forever weep 

As one who mourns a deathless wrong ! 
What hidden woe can lie so deep, 

What utter grief can last so long ? 

E. A. A. 

/^\H, mine is not a hidden woe, 
^■^ All nature doth its memories keep, 
These very flowers my branches sweep, 
The burden of my sorrow know ! 

The violet drooped her eyes of blue, 
Abashed such deeds of wrong to see ; 
My lily-browed anemone 

Blushed, all her snow-white petals through. 

You ask me why ? Winds, whisper low. 
Hide, stars, beneath your veils of cloud, 
Night's densest robes must close enshroud, 

Ere mortal ears may hear my woe. 



One eve within a lone retreat 
Of sacred, sad Gethsemane, 
94 






XTbe Weeping TKRUlow of Oetbseinane. 95 

The " Man of Sorrows " came to me 
And rested, weary, at my feet. 

Oh, ne'er did burdened spirit lay, 
Before his God such weight of woe. 
The crimson life-drops from his brow 

No dews of night could wash away. 

Some deep, some hidden grief he bore ; 
The livelong night he waited there, 
And breathed such agonies of prayer 

As ne'er did human lips before. 

I asked the stars, — but no reply. 

The full moon hid her face from sight. 

" Tell me, oh tell me, winds of night, 
Why this unwonted agony ? " 

Then Zephyr's deep, low voice replied : 

" Divinity on earth has trod. 

All nature bows before her God, 
But Man his Maker has denied ! 

" The sorrow of a world is there. 
A world whose sins he would atone, 
Each ill the human heart hath known, 

That sinking spirit hath to bear." 

Oh, then my branches downward swept, 
They towered to yonder heaven no more ; 
All night they fanned him o'er and o'er, 

All night their weeping vigils kept. 



96 Ube Gbrist. 

Their loving touch perchance had healed, 
So near to nature's soul he came ; — 
But fresh indignities of shame 

These very boughs were made to yield. 

By man, in whom no love awoke, 

From these the cruel scourge was made, 
Which on that holy flesh was laid, 

With mortal, blood-compelling stroke ! 



Now, touch my branches, twine thy brow, 
A wreath of bay thou wilt not gain, 
They may not bring surcease of pain, 

That could such mortal pain bestow. 

" The winds may woo, the roses wait," 
Still must I droop, and still despair ; 
Kind nature ne'er will bid me wear, 

The glories of my former state. 

J. O. S. 



" CHRIST IS RISEN ! " 

TDEFORE the earliest dawn 

They came, with hearts bereft and lone, 

While nature, sad in sympathy, 
Had hushed, the while, each joyous tone, 

Each voice of melody. 

The silent, watchful stars, 
Fast fading in the distant blue, 

Looked down, it seemed, with mournful eyes> 
As dawn came softly melting through 

Those mild Judean skies : 

But to those sorrowing hearts 

No dawning glory pierced the gloom ; 

They saw but darkening clouds that prest 
In densest form around the tomb, 

Where he was laid to rest. 

Oft had he told them all, 

And they had heard him day by day, 

Yet had they hoped, scarce knowing why^ 
That from such power and majesty 

E'en Death would shrink away. 
97 



98 Ubc Cbrist. 

But now of hope bereft, 

They sought that rocky grave again, 

Their last sad gifts of sorrow bringing ; 
Nor heard the angels even then, 

Their songs of rapture singing. 

But lo ! what sudden change ! 

The tomb once sealed is open wide ! 

The stone which at its portal lay, 
By unseen hands is rolled aside, 

While angels guard the way ! 

Now, thrilled with sudden fear, 

They wonder where their Lord is laid : 

" O/i, tell us where ! " they weeping cried ; 
u Why seek the living 'mong the dead ? " 

The angel's voice replied. 

Hope sought their hearts again, 

And through the heavy clouds there came 

A ray of Heaven's effulgence beaming, 
And down the cheeks which grief had paled, 

Swift tears of joy were streaming. 

" But where, oh tell us where ! 
Is he a spirit unrevealed 

To human eyes ? Or can we know, 
The voice, the look, the tone that healed 

The turbulence of woe ? " 

" Your Jesus, still the same — 
Behold his empty resting-place ! 



"Gbrtet is IRisen!" 99 

He lives who was ' The Crucified.' 
And ye shall see him face to face," 
Again the voice replied. 

Then as they swiftly ran 

To make the wondrous tidings known 

Behold ! He met them — still the same : 
His blessed voice, and his alone, 

Spake each familiar name ! 



Dear Jesus, when we seek 

With breaking hearts thine empty tomb, 

And faith is weak, and hopes are blighted, 
May Thy loved voice dispel the gloom, 

Speak peace to souls benighted. 

And may that hallowed grave 
Be still to us a pledge of life, 

And while we linger by its portal, 
Its rocky walls with hopes be rife — 

Sweet hopes of joys immortal. 

J. O. S. 



THE JOURNEY TO EMMAUS. 

~VX TE read of friendships on the lower plane 

Of two and two, where there is much to gain 
Of nature's sweet accord between two hearts 
Which seem but half a whole when distance parts. 
But these are earthy, selfish, and prefer 
That all the world should to them minister 
And not they to the world, for pain's surcease, 
But that its every realm should bring them peace. 
Not such the friendship of the loyal three 
Who walked together forth from Galilee ; 
And with that tenderness of tone that breaks 
In sobs but half suppressed, and echo wakes 
In all the hearts that hear, until they kneel 
At the same shrine and threefold anguish feel. 

Such are the friendships of the upland heights, 
Of heaven itself where no corruption blights ; 
Nor can there be such love beneath the skies 
As that which binds by love's great sacrifice. 

They walked along with meditative gait 

And told the stranger all their sorrow's weight. 

Had he not come their nation to redeem 

From earthly bondage ? but their glorious dream 



XTbe 3ourne£ to Bmmaus. 101 

Was buried now with him in Joseph's tomb, 

And now the whole wide earth held naught but 

gloom, 
For they had lost him whom their souls adored, 
Their prophet, priest, their own beloved Lord. 

They told him of that agonizing pain, 

Of midnight gloom that shadowed all the plain, 

The awful rending of the temple's vail, 

The ghastly risen dead with faces pale, — 

But all as nothing to that anguished cry, 

That suffering, pathetic Eloi. 

That horror from a spent vitality — 

" Oh why, my God, hast thou forsaken me ? " 

They wept again as lovingly they thought 
Of that erstwhile unblemished body sought 
By one who loved him, and most tenderly 
In snow-white linen wrapped and laid away ; — 
Then looking up they saw the stranger's tear, 
That told his sympathy with all their fear. 

u Art thou a stranger then in this great realm 
And hast not heard its griefs that overwhelm ? " 

Then did this wondrous friend so kind so wise, 
Expound the word so that they ceased their sighs, 
And hung upon his speech as if entranced, 
Nor ever dreamed as on their steps advanced 



io2 TLhc Gbrist, 

That this was their beloved Master, risen, 
And only staying from his place in heaven 
To comfort them as he had done before 
In spiritual converse yet once more. 

He told them not to mourn their Master's death 
(This earthly life was but a passing breath) 
As those who have no hope, for it was meet 
That one should die to win the heavenly seat. 

They loved the stranger guest and sore con- 
strained 
That he should stay with them till day had waned, 
And loyal women, too, so warmly prayed 
That he should sit with them within the shade — 
The women who had found the empty tomb 
And angel watchers deep within the gloom. 

He at their bidding waited, when, behold ! 
Their eyes were oped to see — oh, joy untold ! — 
Their risen Lord, in dear familiar guise, 
With all the old-time love-light in his eyes. 

Then oh, what tempered joy as came the gleam 
Of swift remembrance; — but the scar, the seam 
The piercing of the nails, while plainly there 
The cruel crown-mark on the forehead bare ! 

They wept for joy, and trembling sorrow too, 
Because, still superhuman to their view, 
They could not clasp him as in earthly state, — 
His " Touch me not " subdued their hope elate ; 



Ufte Journey to Bmntaus* 103 

And in the very act of breaking bread, 

He vanished and the " viewless vision " sped. 

This, then, their wondrous theme, their faltering 

strain, 
On trembling wings that rose and fell again, 
As clasping loyal hands they said in turn, — 
" Did not our sorrowing hearts within us burn " 
When first he pointed out so tender, wise, 
That God had blessed the willing sacrifice ? 
And how our very souls were thrilled to-day 
When he was talking with us by the way ! 

J. O. S. 



THE ASCENSION. 

I. 

' I "HE sun had touched the crown of Olivet 

And eastward all the cloud towers were 

aflame, 
When with alert and eager footsteps came 
That faithful band, their Master with them yet. 
Their hearts were buoyant with expectancy. — 
He who had conquered Death, — might he not 

stay 
In his own realm, — of Death no more the prey, 
Or vest them here with immortality ? 
Eyes still were wet with some remembered word ; 
That threnody of longing born of pain : 
The " Lovest thou me ? " again and yet again, 
The thrice-told answer, — " Yea, thou knowest, 

Lord." 
Though on, still on, to Bethany he led, 
He would not leave them here unshepherded. 

II. 

But something held them silent and afraid, — 
They dared not even touch his garment's hem. 
Was he a God ? Oh, human still to them, 
104 



\Ube Bscension, 105 

For there the marks which nail and thorn had 

made ! 
But some benign withdrawal made them feel 
That there had been a subtle inward change 
They could not fathom, far beyond the range 
Of their earth limitations, strange, but real. 
He lifted up his hands and blessed them there, 
And then they knew ! For with anointed eyes 
They looked on God, on his world-sacrifice. 
They knelt upon the sod in burning prayer, 
By that strong waiting spirit soothed and quelled, 
Still more their raptured hearts were love-impelled. 

III. 

Lo, Heaven has opened to their fervent gaze ! 
Cloud forms appear and drift athwart the skies, — 
Bright cumulus chariots with their embassies, — 
While, rapt and lost in wonder and amaze, 
The kneeling band in speechless wonder wait, 
Prostrate with adoration, while they see 
To spirit changed from corporeity 
His form, cloud-wrapped, far speeding to Heaven's 

gate. 
For him are changed the steadfast laws of earth — 
By spiritual gravitation drawn 
Upward and onward to the gates of dawn, 
Still upward where pure spirit has its birth. 
Earth voices blending with the heavenly strain, 
Which tells of souls blood-bought through Cal- 
vary's pain. 



106 TTbe Cbrist 

IV. 

Two angels came with reassuring speech. — 
Didst thou come, Gabriel ? Thou, — to earth once 

more 
To tell that his redemptive work was o'er ? 
Didst bring One with thee, their bowed hearts to 

reach ? 
(For there were two.) Why may we not believe 
The One who came to Mary at his birth 
Should seek her, now that he had passed from 

earth, 
And tenderly her sorrowing heart relieve. 
" Weep not." " Fear not," — Rejoice for ever- 
more ! 
For he will yet return, all clothed in light, 
As ye have seen him pass from out your sight. 
" Once more I say, Rejoice ! " Your tears are 

o'er. 
Can he forget his own ? Nay, trust his grace, 
For he hath borne the heart-woes of the race. 

J. O. S. 



DEC 19 1898 



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